Sunday, July 5, 2015

Sunday Snog #181: Making Memory

This week’s Sunday kiss is from “Making Memory”, one of the stories in Her Own Devices. On back road in Maine, on the way home from visiting her Alzheimer’s-afflicted father, Nicole’s car  blows a tire. She’s forced to take refuge in a weather-beaten country inn perched above the sea, as the guest of the middle-aged proprietor who has endured losses of her own. Although there’s a bit of sex in this tale, it’s one of the sweetest things I’ve ever written.

When you’re finished with my snog, head over to Victoria’s place for more weekend lip-locks.

And while I have your attention—if you haven’t already completed my reader survey, I hope you’ll do so. Every respondent gets a coupon for a free erotic romance book. Furthermore, I’m giving away a $50 bookstore gift certificate to one lucky participant.

To take the survey, click here:

https://www.surveymonkey.com/s/JGNFVY8

Here's the snog!






I must have slept, for I was wakened by the creaking of my door hinge. I turned from the window to see Maggie standing barefoot in a pool of moonlight. Her hair floated loose around her face. A simple, sleeveless cotton nightgown hung from her shoulders. She looked young, and somewhat confused, as if she was not sure how she got there. She took another step into the room. I rose to meet her.

"I couldn't sleep," she whispered, as if there were others slumbering in the house. "I kept thinking about Jack. And about you."

Then, as if we had wanted to do this from the beginning, we kissed. Neither of us took the initiative. It was a spontaneous impulse, a reuniting of two halves into the glorious whole. A drawing together, like magnets, or lightning pulled to water.

Her lips were sweet on mine, shocking and yet strangely familiar. Her hands traveled under my shirt, seeking my breasts, which she cupped and kneaded like bread dough. Her touch ignited me, recalling hungers that I had tried hard to forget. I brushed my fingertips over her nipples, poking stiff and girlish through her gown. She sighed, a sigh so deep it seemed that her soul was escaping her body.

Entwined, we stumbled to the bed, prostrate in our mutual need.

She smelled of fresh bread, flowers and the sea. Her skin was velvety soft, warm and welcoming as clean sheets dried in the sun. I shivered when she touched me, all my senses newly wakened as if from a long sleep. She moaned when I touched her, half-animal, half-human, arching upward, offering all to me. 


No comments:

Post a Comment